


You and I

by Philosophizes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Marriage, Romance, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/pseuds/Philosophizes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serious treatment of the non-political, mixed-cultural marriage of Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt; who have rather different expectations of how this is supposed to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and I

Romano was the first one to know.  
  
 _“What is this?”_ he demanded, shoving the object he’d found lying on the dining room table in his brother’s face.  
  
Veneziano looked at it for a moment, then brightened up.  
  
“You found it!” he exclaimed happily, reaching out to snatch it.  
  
The other half of the country closed his hand around it.  
  
 _“Feliciano.”_  
  
He got a pout in return for his tone.  
  
“It’s an engagement ring! Like Grandfather’s ones.”  
  
“I _know_ it’s an engagement ring!” Lovino snapped at him. He could feel the iron warming against his palm, and the seam where the gold was inset. “But _why_ do you have it?”  
  
“Because Ludwig is going to wear it!”  
  
Lovino stared at him.  
  
Feliciano rested his chin in his hands.  
  
“But he doesn’t have a father I can go ask his hand from! Germania’s been dead a really long time so it’s not like I can ask him- do you think Prussia counts? _Oh!_ Do you think he’ll expect a bride price? I don’t have one! How much do you think he’ll want?”  
  
“He’ll probably make you pay it in beer,” was the only thing Romano could think of to say; and then kicked the couch in frustration and flung one of the pillows that fell off at his brother’s face for suddenly just springing this on him.

* * *

It was not an uncommon occurrence in the Beilschmidt house for Veneziano to suddenly burst in unannounced, but this was the first time in Prussia’s memory that it had happened while his brother was still at work.  
  
“Prussia!” Feliciano exclaimed loudly, situating himself between the Nation lying on the couch and the television.  
  
“Yeah?” Gilbert asked, trying to crane his neck so he could keep watching the documentary.  
  
“I need to talk with you!”  
  
Gilbert sighed and paused the television. He stuck his pen into the notebook he was using to record the second-to-last draft of volumes thirteen and fourteen of his _‘A History of the German People: Love, War, and Brotherhood’_.  
  
This was the twentieth renaming of his magnum opus, and he was pretty happy about this version.  
  
Not _quite_ as awesome as _‘The Forgotten Crusaders: Teutonic Knights, Sword Brethren, and Knights Hospitaller (Vol. I-IX)’_ , say; or _‘Prussian Military Tactics: Brilliance of the Hohenzollerns (In Two Parts)’_ \- but still pretty awesome.  
  
Prussia dropped the leather-bound book on top of the stack of diaries he’d been using for reference and sat up, wriggling his socked toes into the thick carpet.  
  
“What’s up, Feli?”  
  
“Will you consent to give me your brother in marriage?”  
  
“Woah. Woah. _What?_ ”  
  
Feliciano squared his shoulders.  
  
“Will you give me permission to marry Ludwig?”  
  
“Just a second,” Gilbert told him, clambering off the couch. He dashed up the stairs and came down five minutes later, his sweatpants and old tee exchanged for a button down shirt, tie, nice slacks, and dress shoes. His car keys clinked in his hand.  
  
Ten minutes later, they were comfortably ensconced at a weathered wooden table in the oldest beer hall in Berlin, alcohol and snacks close at hand.  
  
“Now we can talk business,” Gilbert said seriously, slamming his fist down on the table. “Why should I let you marry my brother?”  
  
“I love him.”  
  
“Nice sentiment. Give me something concrete.”  
  
“I can make him take time off work to enjoy himself.”  
  
“True.”  
  
“I can keep him from worrying about the entire world and everyone in it for at least an hour straight.”  
  
“Freaking amazing talent.”  
  
“I will stay with him through everything.”  
  
Gilbert thought about the war years he’d been present for and the post-war years he’d only heard stories of, and had some more beer.  
  
“We know how to deal with each other. He trusts me. He is safe with me.”  
  
Prussia, ever the concerned elder brother, tried to look unconvinced.  
  
“He loves me.”  
  
“Can’t argue with that,” he decided. “You’ve got my permission. Go marry the guy. Have some beer first though.”  
  
Feliciano abstained and instead set a box, five inches square in all dimensions, on the table.  
  
Gilbert eyed it with interest.  
  
“My bride price,” Veneziano told him, pushing it across the table.  
  
Prussia untied the ribbon and took the top off, then carefully pulled out the tissue-wrapped object inside. He set it down on the table and unfolded the thin packaging.  
  
It was a blown glass figurine of the Prussian Eagle, properly and painstakingly colored. The base was clear, with _Suum Cique_ enameled on it in gold.  
  
Gilbert picked it up gently and turned it over.  
  
The bottom was coated in silver. Engraved into the metal was the Lion of Saint Mark, in perfect detail, with the monogram SRV under it.  
  
He whistled, impressed.  
  
“Real Venetian glass from your personal workshop. I’m honored.”  
  
Feliciano smiled.  
  
Prussia rewrapped the figurine with great care. When he went to place it back in the box, he noticed the bottom was lined with gold Venetian ducats.  
  
He pulled one out and squinted at the Roman numerals stamped around the rim.  
  
 _MCCLXXXIV_  
  
1284.  
  
“They’re the first ones,” Veneziano supplied.  
  
“ _Damn,_ Feli!” Gilbert exclaimed, replacing everything in the box. “These should be in one of your museums somewhere!”  
  
“So should most of your house,” he retorted.  
  
Gilbert smirked and raised his glass.  
  
“To your marriage.”

* * *

Ludwig returned home that evening to a full house.  
  
He stopped in the doorway of the living room and glared at the party he hadn’t been informed of.  
  
Spain and France were there, which wasn’t surprising. Austria and Hungary were as well, which was rather more surprising- but the other guests were even stranger.  
  
Switzerland was hovering by the large front window, looming in Poland and Liechtenstein’s conversation even from half a room away. Romano was over on the sideboard, complaining to one of his sisters- Sicily, Germany thought it was- about the wine and food. The other one, Sardinia, had installed herself by the bookcase. Seborga was rooting through the things on his mantelpiece.  
  
“I’ll have you know I don’t approve of this and am only here out of familial duty!” the Vatican snapped at him, then swept off to half-heartedly glare at everything from next to Switzerland.  
  
Germany was still trying to figure out where he’d come from when Japan appeared at his side and took his suitcase.  
  
“Congratulations, Ludwig,” he said, and bowed slightly. “I wish the best of luck and health. May your union be happy.”  
  
 _“What.”_  
  
“Lutz, get in here!” Prussia called. “We’ve got serious business to take care of!”  
  
Ludwig scowled at him and walked into the room.  
  
“Gilbert, we’ve _talked_ about this! If you want to host a gathering, we have to discuss it ahead of time and do proper plan-”  
  
“Stand here and shut up,” his brother ordered him, yanking him into position.  
  
 _“Gilbert-”_  
  
“This is _your_ party; now be quiet so we can get on with it.”  
  
“Get on with _what?_ ” Ludwig demanded in annoyance.  
  
But then Feliciano walked up to him and dropped to one knee; and he was suddenly much to occupied with preemptive mortification to be annoyed anymore.  
  
“Marry me,” Feliciano said simply.  
  
There were a few moments of awkward, embarrassed silence.  
  
“C’mon, Lutz; say yes already!” Prussia told his brother. “He already paid your bride price; hurry up so I can pay him your dowry and we can start celebrating!”  
  
Ludwig turned on him.  
  
“I do not have a _**bride** price **or**_ a _dowry!_ ”  
  
“ _You_ don’t have a bride price,” Gilbert informed him. “That’s what the groom pays and Feli’s already done it. But you _do_ have a dowry. Now say thank you, because I was a good big brother and pulled it together in one afternoon. Nobody else is awesome enough to do that and you should be grateful.”  
  
Germany spluttered.  
  
“Don’t be like that, Lutz; Feli’s the one who’s proposing so that makes him the groom here as far as we’re concerned.”  
  
 _“I never consented to any of this!”_  
  
“Well, you’ve got your opportunity right now,” Prussia pointed out. “What, you got some problem with marrying Feli?”

“ _No,_ I have a problem with people plotting things in secret about me!”  
  
“Then say yes already,” Gilbert told him, completely ignoring most of his brother’s point.  
  
“ _Pleeeease,_ Ludwig!” Feliciano pleaded, still on one knee. “ _Say_ something, this is really uncomfortable to hold!”  
  
Ludwig sighed, bit the inside of his cheek, and spared a special glare for everyone in the room he thought likely had a hand in this- which turned out to be most of the guests he saw on a regular basis- and looked down at Feliciano.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Spain whooped and tackle-hugged France and Romano simultaneously, earning himself and his friend an irate punch on the body part most readily available to Lovino.  
  
Feliciano beamed at his fiancé, stood up a little stiffly, took Ludwig’s left hand, and slipped the ring he’d had made on.  
  
Ludwig examined the gold-inset iron band and frowned.  
  
“Feliciano, engagement rings go on the _right_ hand.”  
  
“No they don’t,” Feliciano maintained. “They go on the left one. That’s how Grandfather always did it.”  
  
“Ah, Feli- it _does_ go on the right hand,” Spain told him.  
  
“Shut up idiot,” Lovino snapped. “He didn’t mess this up.”  
  
“No, it’s _totally_ the other one.”  
  
“I concur with Poland.”  
  
“Roderich dear, he’s _wrong._ ”  
  
“ _Oui_ , I am _certain_ it goes on the left hand.”  
  
“I think it goes on the right hand,” Liechtenstein said.  
  
“Japan!” Switzerland declared. “Decide this!”  
  
Kiku looked distinctly like a startled deer.  
  
“Uh- um- the giving and receiving of rings is regrettably not a traditional component of weddings I am familiar with! My apologies!”  
  
“Kiku, you don’t need to be sorry!” Feliciano protested. “Hey, Ludwig, I’ll wear mine on my right hand like your people do if you’ll wear yours on the left.”  
  
“That is acceptable.”  
  
“See, it wasn’t that complicated,” Gilbert said. “Scoot over West, I need to give him your dowry now.”  
  
“There is no need for a dowry!”  
  
“It’s the physical expression of your value as a spouse,” Prussia retorted. _“No arguing.”_  
  
He reached behind the couch and pulled out two blades- one naked, one sheathed.  
  
“I remember _those,_ ” Switzerland said wistfully. France and Poland just looked slightly pained.  
  
“Katzbalger,” Prussia told Veneziano, handing him the bare sword. Feliciano hefted it experimentally, examining the broad pommel and simple curved hand guard.  
  
 _“Gilbert-”_  
  
“Damn it, Lutz, this is your _history,_ ” he snapped at him, and handed his brother’s fiancé the sheathed blade.  
  
“If this is supposed to be a ‘physical expression’ of my ‘value as a spouse’, _why are you giving him weapons?_ ”  
  
“Kreigsmesser,” Prussia continued, ignoring him.  
  
Feliciano tucked the Katzbalger under his arm and pulled the long war knife a few inches out of its sheath and tested the edge. Gilbert had sharpened it beforehand.  
  
Lastly, Prussia presented the man with a leather pouch. Veneziano opened it, and silver glinted. He took one coin out and recognized it as a pre-Unification _Vereinsthaler_.  
  
He dropped the coin back in and closed the pouch.  
  
“Drinking time!” Gilbert declared.

* * *

Later that night, after the alcohol-abstinent Vatican had bullied and argued the majority of the completely inebriated Italian peninsula back home, and the surrounding areas of Europe had wandered back to their capitals, only slightly drunk, Germany cornered Veneziano on the couch.  
  
“Ludwig!” Feliciano scolded, pressed up against the arm of the seat. “We’re engaged now! No sex until after the wedding!”  
  
Ludwig resisted the urge to say something disparaging about that and blushed instead.  
  
“That’s not what I want,” he muttered.  
  
“Oh. Good! You still get kisses though!”  
  
He had to stop Feliciano from over-proving his sincerity on that point with a hand over his fiancé’s mouth.  
  
“I just wanted to talk about today,” Ludwig told him, looking as serious as could with Feliciano’s lips moving against his palm and his eyes gazing at him in ways that should absolutely _not_ be allowed if he was serious about chastity until their wedding.  
  
“Hmm…”  
  
“I didn’t appreciate that stunt you and my brother pulled today.”  
  
Feliciano’s mouth stopped and he looked at Ludwig, eyes completely open. He pulled Germany’s hand away.  
  
“Are you mad?” he asked worriedly. “I’m sorry!”  
  
Ludwig sighed.  
  
“I’m not- I’m not mad. I…”  
  
“Did I pressure you into saying yes?” Feliciano asked, sounding slightly frantic. “Ludwig, I don’t _want_ to marry you if you don’t want to marry me I’m sorry I asked in front of everyone you didn’t have to say yes to keep from embarrassing me it’s just that Italians have always proposed at engagement parties, even when we were Romans-”  
  
“You didn’t pressure me,” Ludwig interrupted him. He shifted, wrapping his arms around his fiancé’s waist and laying his head down on Feliciano’s shoulder. “ _I love you._ I’m _yours_ \- that just doesn’t mean you get to treat me like a _commodity._ ”  
  
Feliciano hugged him around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.  
  
“We were just following tradition,” he said. “We weren’t _really_ paying for you. You could have said no.”  
  
“I didn’t want to.”  
  
Feliciano giggled happily and squeezed him tighter for a few moments.  
  
“Hey Ludwig?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“What do you want for your dower?”  
  
Germany sighed.  
  
“My _what?_ ”  
  
“The bride price is what I paid to your family to marry you. Your dowry is what your family paid to me to marry you. Your dower is the gift I give you when we get married. It’s supposed to be some property of mine and usually I think it’s land or livestock but I don’t have any cows or chickens or anything and I can’t give you part of my country. Do want paintings? Furniture? Money?”  
  
“I don’t need a dower,” Ludwig told him. “You’re enough of a gift.”

* * *

Wedding planning, they soon learned, was quite the hassle.  
  
Ludwig didn’t want to deal with the fuss of a large wedding; but Feliciano, used to centuries of massive, full-day, lavish receptions and ceremonies, refused to invite any less than _everyone_ they knew. Ludwig soon learned that this meant every member state of the United Nations, and he just as staunchly refused to invite the entire world to his wedding.  
  
Gilbert eventually had to step in, pointing out that _not_ at least sending a wedding announcement to everyone would make at least _one_ person feel slighted; and that most of them probably wouldn’t bother to show up anyway. At most, he said, they should plan for all of Europe, North America, and the coastal parts of Asia.  
  
Lesser questions were also pressing, such as _Was anyone going to be forced to wear a dress?_ , which Gilbert was in favor of for the novelty and Feliciano seemed keenly interested in, but Ludwig dismissed out of hand, still unclear on who exactly his fiancé had pictured in a dress; or _Will we tell our bosses?_ , unanimously rejected given the extremely high probability that the situation would immediately turn Political and they’d be forced by their respective governments to break off the engagement entirely; and _Should we let Lovino be our wedding planner?_  
  
The answer to that was a surprising yes.  
  
After Ludwig gave in to Feliciano’s pleas and Lovino’s threats, his life suddenly became much less stressful. Feliciano assured him that his brother wasn’t plotting any sabotage, and Lovino called regularly at inconvenient hours, spreading his bad temper around and demanding clarification on every single detail he’d managed to pull from the things his younger brother told him.  
  
There were some things, however, that even _he_ couldn’t do.  
  
“Feliciano?” Ludwig asked, coming home to see his fiancé slumped at the table, staring into his cold coffee.  
  
He didn’t answer, so Germany walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Veneziano lifted an arm to wipe at his eyes.  
  
“I’m okay,” he said quietly.  
  
Ludwig pulled a chair over and sat next to him.  
  
“Feli-”  
  
“It- It’s just… Cristoforo said he wouldn’t come,” Feliciano sniffed. “I-I called to invite him to that witnessing ceremony you said you wanted, when we sign the civil union papers, since Lovino couldn’t get a hold of him, and he said he refuses to participate in a mockery of a Holy Sacrament.”  
  
Ludwig reached up and cradled the side of his face in one hand.  
  
“He’s the Vatican, Feliciano.”  
  
“I _know,_ I _know!_ ” he exclaimed, trying to force his tears away. “But he’s my _brother_ and I hoped he would be there!”

Ludwig pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Me too,” Feliciano sniffled, then went silent.  
  
Germany tried to rub his back soothingly.  
  
“An-And, I… I know you probably don’t care,” Feliciano said quietly. “But he said we wouldn’t find a church that would take us, and I’ve been calling for weeks and _weeks_ and haven’t found anyone willing to officiate, everyone’s hung up on me or tried to make me feel bad, and I thought maybe I could convince Cristoforo to do it, b-but I know he won’t now, he’s not trying to be _mean_ he just- he doesn’t think this is a good idea, and- um…”  
  
He trailed off.  
  
“I just really wanted there to be a church,” he whispered.  
  
“We’ll still have the papers.”  
  
Feliciano pulled away.  
  
“I _know;_ but that’s _papers,_ Ludwig! That’s the _government_ saying we can adopt each other’s children and inherit each other’s pensions and visit each other in the hospital and I get German citizenship and a bunch of other stuff and none of it even _matters_ to Nations; it’s not a _marriage,_ not _really,_ there’s no God _anywhere_ in all that!”  
  
Ludwig didn’t like the sad, defeated look in his eyes.  
  
“Feliciano,” he said, taking his hands and leaning towards him. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of our respective forevers with you. I- Maybe all we can have in Germany is papers that give us legal rights that don’t matter to us, but we couldn’t have even that in Italy.”  
  
“I know,” Veneziano said quietly.  
  
“I-”  
  
Ludwig sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry that’s not enough for you, but it's all I can give.”  
  
Feliciano threw his arms around him.  
  
“No, no, _no,_ Ludwig, that’s not how I meant it! You love me and want me forever and ever and that’s amazing and wonderful and even just papers is _something_ and I’m so, so happy we’ll have all that it it’s- it’s-”  
  
He struggled for words.  
  
“…It’s hard to explain,” he said eventually, voice soft and serious. “But we promised ourselves to each other, and I don’t think there will ever be any way really to say how _grateful_ I am for that and how- how _beautiful_ you make me feel, all the time; but I’d like to be able to start by going to a church and saying it in front of God, and then saying it again to everyone else we meet by calling you my husband.”  
  
Ludwig kissed him.

* * *

Somehow, Lovino had managed to come over Friday evening to the old house in Potsdam, work through the night, argue with his brother for most of Saturday morning, take a short nap after lunch, wake up, finish the wedding preparations before the sun started to set, cook dinner, scream at Prussia for everything under the sun, serve dinner, and then wake up early Sunday morning to get ready for the day.  
  
Ludwig still had no idea how he’d done it, but now, as he walked hand-in-hand with Feliciano down a street in Berlin towards the civil office, he was grateful for it.  
  
The entourage Feliciano had proposed and Lovino had finalized- more things to thank him for- milled about them, the people nearest them switching out as the natural progression of the walk sped up and slowed down, so that Sicily’s protective older sister glare melted into Spain’s smile, only to be replaced by Poland’s lopsided grin and Seborga’s loud jokes that Japan secretly appreciated and Austria, on the other side of the group, clearly didn’t approve of, though France’s twinkling eyes told another story that was much more similar to Prussia’s laugh and probably second cousins with Sardinia and Romano’s matching, ever-present grumpiness.  
  
Feliciano beamed the whole time and whispered in Ludwig’s ear stories he’d heard a few times before now, of ten-man strong witnessing ceremonies in Roman townhouses and pre-wedding processions down Venetian streets towards the Basilica.  
  
The civil ceremony itself was simple. He and Feliciano gathered the paperwork while their friends and families lounged or hovered around, according to their natures. Gilbert and Feliks started a one-upping contest over ridiculous suggestions for the entries on the blank lines on the documents- Francis and Antonio judged, eventually coming to the conclusion that Seborga had won. Austria and Sicily looked on disapprovingly and were haughty together in a corner.  
  
The pen hovered over one of the last entry spaces and Feliciano brushed his fingertips over Ludwig’s arm, then signed his name.  
  
Ludwig took the pen from him and signed underneath it.  
  
Kiku slid in between them for a moment and produced his own pen from the drawstring bag he was carrying, having favored one of his unfortunately-pocketless kimonos for the occasion, and carefully wrote his own name in the witness space.  
  
Lovino slammed his hand down on the table and sneered triumphantly at the whole room, but mostly Francis and Antonio.  
  
“Try and make moves on my brother _now,_ you bastards! He’s a married man!”

This elicited a roar of laughter from Gilbert, and the two of them kept up the heated repartee all through the filing of the paperwork with the clerk and out into the street.  
  
Ludwig was just about to break it up when Kiku suddenly stepped in front of him and bowed awkwardly.  
  
“I must regretfully inform you that I have been tasked with the honor of kidnapping you at this moment.”  
  
“What?”  
  
The other man looked just as perturbed.  
  
“As the… ‘best man’, I have been informed that it is my duty to abscond with you with the nearest establishment involved with the sale of alcohol and do my best to ensure that we both become as inebriated as possible.”  
  
Ludwig was just starting to have sudden flashes of memory about culturally-specific wedding traditions when someone grabbed him by the back of his suit jacket and started to drag him down the street.  
  
“Now, now, Japan,” France scolded playfully. “He is a married man! There is no need to bore him to death on the most important day of his life! Come, we must work quickly!”  
  
He winked lasciviously.  
  
“He needs to be properly relaxed for tonight, _non_?”  
  
Kiku followed them across a few blocks to the nearest beer hall, the wooden platforms on his sandals clacking against the pavement. Francis entered the building as dramatically as he could while still keeping a hold on his neighbor, and was slightly disappointed by the relative lack of patronage in the room.  
  
He sat Ludwig down between himself and Kiku, then hailed a waitress and ordered more alcohol than Ludwig was sure about their ability to handle for all of them.  
  
Feliciano, trailing a happily-defeated Gilbert, tracked them down ten minutes later, after Francis had downed the two most expensive bottles the place had and started to top off Kiku’s drink with the third.  
  
The newlywed sighed, smiled sheepishly at his husband, and paid for everything.  
  
Francis and Gilbert laughed the whole way back to the house.

* * *

Lovino and Antonio had started the party by the time they arrived.  
  
True to Gilbert’s prediction, mostly the only guests they had were from Europe, but even that was enough to strain the boundaries of the house’s spacious back yard, kitchen, dining room, and first-floor living area.  
  
America was the first one to notice their arrival.  
  
“Yo, guys!” he bellowed, barging between Feliciano and Ludwig, slinging an arm over both their shoulders. “Look who finally showed up!”  
  
 _“About time!”_ someone yelled.  
  
Denmark raised the glass he was drinking from.  
  
 _“To the newlyweds!”_ he roared. _“De bedste ønsker!”_  
  
The rest of the gathering picked it up, calling out their own well-wishes.  
  
“Kiss the bride!” Hungary called impishly.  
  
Feliciano smirked at her and pulled Ludwig down into a kiss.  
  
Greece whistled.  
  
Ludwig hadn’t managed yet to decide if he liked the traditional Italian lack of moderation when it came to weddings, but there was certainly enough food to feed the continent and half that had showed up- hopefully, anyhow. It was hard to tell since they wouldn’t start eating until the two of them had sat down, but it was tough going when _everyone_ stopped them to offer personal congratulations.  
  
Russia intervened eventually, with a big happy smile and an aura that seemed slightly repellant to everyone. He led them around the horseshoe configuration of tables arranged just inside the perimeter of the lawn and pulled out their chairs for them.  
  
They sat, and everyone else spent a few minutes shuffling around, switching place cards, and negotiating multi-party agreements in favor of themselves before finding someone else’s seat to use.  
  
Kiku, looking pained and uncertain, stood and waited patiently for silence.  
  
Lovino, annoyed that people had so flagrantly ignored his seating arrangements, snarled at them all to shut up and listen to the best man already.  
  
The best man didn’t look any happier now that everyone was staring at him, but he made a valiant effort.  
  
He cleared his throat.

“I must regretfully say that I was unclear as to my duties and responsibilities as a ‘best man’; but accepted the honor as a humble service to my two, very close friends, Ludwig and Feliciano. I fear that after many nights spent in tireless research that I am still woefully unprepared for this duty, though I shall work to the best of my ability to fulfill it.”  
  
“So get _on_ with it!”  
  
“At my first meeting with my esteemed friends, I never would have imagined that this glorious day would occur. Those were trying years, as we all know.”  
  
Japan paused, allowing a moment of silence.  
  
“At the time, I was doubtful of the goodness of human hearts. There had been too much conflict and too much pain. Regrettably, I must admit to being unpleased with idea of gaining allies in war instead of friends in peace.”  
  
Kiku’s mouth twitched upwards.  
  
“I am pleased to be able to say that Ludwig and Feliciano have been both, and our relationships have only strengthened as time has gone on- which, indeed, had to have been the case for us to be here today.”  
  
There was a ripple of quiet laughter, and Kiku was openly smiling now. He turned to his friends.  
  
“I could not have asked for two better people to have shared all these years with. Your happiness together, your dedication to each other, and, most of all, your evident joy and love have been a glorious reminder of the good things in this world and a tireless example of the things it takes for us all to live together in harmony. I am sure I am not the only person here who has had my spirits lifted, at one time or other, by the two of you. I offer you many, many thanks for keeping me in your lives, and wish you the best of luck and happiness together.”  
  
He bowed deeply to them, then straightened up and turned, preparing to do the same to everyone else- but Feliciano stood up and took his hands before he could and kissed his cheeks.  
  
Then he hugged him.  
  
“ _Grazie_ ,” he whispered in Kiku’s ear. “That was beautiful.”  
  
Ludwig stood as well, staying true to his much less demonstrative character and simply clasped one of his friend’s now free hands firmly in his own.  
  
There was some applause going on in the background, and people trying to tell Kiku he hadn’t proposed a toast and that was the whole _point,_ but the three of them ignored it all as Feliciano freed one arm to pull his husband into the group hug.

* * *

The late Sunday lunch passed in a whirl of chatter, endless plates of food, a few more speeches as people felt moved to say something, and entirely too many shouts of _“Kiss the bride!”_ from Hungary and Russia; and then after Russia got pleasantly drunk and just sat around smiling contentedly at everyone and enjoying the atmosphere, Ukraine and Romania.  
  
It ended with Ludwig and Feliciano breaking the wine glass they’d been using. They counted up the pieces, England gave an overly-loud, alcohol-enhanced assurance to the entire group that the two of them were sure to spend _quite_ a few centuries more worth of happy years together than _that_ before collapsing onto the lawn and laughing uproariously, and then everyone helped clear away the tables and dishes.  
  
The more musically-inclined guests set up by the house, and the dancing started.  
  
The couple’s first dance was slightly awkward- Ludwig was not known for his dancing and Feliciano at first tried to do something more complicated than a basic waltz, but it was eventually sorted out, and everyone else joined in.  
  
Evening had fallen and brought with it a pleasant quiet. The large glass patio doors had been thrown open to accommodate Roderich’s piano accompaniment to the band. Gilbert had long since switched out his flute for an old, well-loved violin. The brass and percussion sections that had accommodated quite a few displays of cultural dance, including a badly-executed group polka that Feliks had pushed through and Antonio’s fiery, stunning solo flamenco performance, had long since fallen silent. Ivan had recovered enough from the alcohol to join the two of them the bass cello, a mug of rich coffee from the Venetian Table sideboard close at hand to keep him warm and awake.  
  
Against all odds, Lovino was still crooning along with the piano and string duet, sharing a bottle of old Italian wine with Antonio, who had his head in his lover’s lap.  
  
Feliciano and Ludwig had found each other again through the ebb and flow of the dance. Ludwig was clinking slightly from the money pouch attached to his belt- Feliciano had brought along another old tradition and made people pay for the privilege of dancing with his husband.  
  
Right now, though, he was more interested in resting his head against Ludwig’s chest and leading the slow waltz.  
  
He sighed contentedly.  
  
Ludwig smiled into his hair.  
  
“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured.  
  
Feliciano nodded slightly.  
  
“Mm-hm.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Feliciano led them through a languid twirl.  
  
“Hey Ludwig?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I really liked Kiku’s speech. I’m glad we made him best man.”  
  
“I am, too.”  
  
“And I was thinking some about the things he said, about the war, and I have something I want to tell you.”

Ludwig held him closer.  
  
“I’ve lived a long, long time, you know? A lot longer than you. I’ve seen a lot of people do terrible things to each other, to strangers and friends and family- especially Nations. By the time we met, I’d… gotten used to people being really, _really **terrible**_ to each other. Being terrible to _me._ I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a Nation be kind to another one, except Lovino to me. I mean _really_ kind- like, friendship kind; not _‘we-have-political-relations-with-each-other-so-I-have-to-be-polite’_ kind. Um… I think I was kind of like what Kiku was saying with himself, I’d sort of started forgetting that we could be nice to each other.”  
  
He looked up.  
  
“But you took me prisoner and you didn’t have to be nice to me, and maybe you weren’t _friendly_ nice, exactly, but you weren’t _mean_ to me, you just got kind of annoyed a lot; and then the next time you were _still_ kind of annoyed a lot, but you were also nice to me in a friendly way even though you didn’t really look or sound like you would be; and it surprised me, actually, since I’d stopped expecting that…”  
  
Feliciano bit the inside of his lip.  
  
“So I um- I wanted to say thank you for reminding me we could all be nice to each other and also that sometimes you have to look a little before you see just _how_ nice people can be.”  
  
He ducked his head and hid it against Ludwig’s chest.  
  
Ludwig slipped his other arm around Feliciano’s waist and stopped moving.  
  
“Thank you for looking,” he said softly. “You are the first person, apart from Gilbert, that I ever felt I could trust. You were my first friend- no one else had ever been kind to me. I’d only known Nations to be cruel; and you showed me we didn’t have to be like that.”  
  
Feliciano peeked up at him.  
  
“The first time I realized that I was really, truly happy; it was because of you.”  
  
“Really?” his husband whispered.  
  
“Really.”  
  
Feliciano made a noise that sounded something like a laugh and moved back, gently pulling Ludwig along, back into the house.

* * *

Austria didn’t notice them go past him into the house, too absorbed in his music, but they were stopped once they got past the kitchen.  
  
 _“Cristoforo?”_ Feliciano asked, stopping dead in the dining room doorway.  
  
His younger brother glanced up from the coffee he’d been nursing and stood.  
  
Feliciano dropped Ludwig’s hand and stepped forward, stunned.  
  
The Vatican had to be the one to start the greeting, leaning towards his brother to give him the traditional hello kisses.  
  
Feliciano stood there for a second after he’d finished, then threw his arms around him, suddenly very teary.  
  
“I thought you weren’t coming!”  
  
Cristoforo hugged him back.  
  
“I said I would not witness,” he replied. “This is a celebration about you being happy.”  
  
He pulled back and smiled a little, looking amused.  
  
“Not that that is a particularly uncommon occurrence; but there is no reason for me to miss it.”  
  
Feliciano laughed shakily and wiped his eyes, sniffing.  
  
“ _Thank you._ Thank you thank you thank you thank you-”  
  
The Vatican reached back to the table and picked up a porcelain plate, flipping it over in his hands.  
  
“I was talking with Gilbert earlier,” he said, and glanced up at them.  His grip on the plate shifted. “This is for good luck, yes?”  
  
He dropped the plate and it shattered on the floor; watching as Ludwig chuckled, took the broom left for him and his husband in the corner, and started sweeping up.

* * *

Switzerland was slumped in a chair next to the front door, dozing off everything he’d eaten. Lichtenstein was still awake, and rose from her seat to meet them, blocking the exit.  
  
“You have to pay the toll!” she told them, smiling.  
  
Ludwig sighed, with no bad feeling behind it, and Feliciano smiled back.  
  
“How much, _bella_?” he asked, winking.  
  
“A kiss from both of you,” Lichtenstein told them, blushing.  
  
Feliciano complied immediately, pecking her cheek. Ludwig had to stoop to do the same, but not after a careful glance at the man in the chair.  
  
The young woman giggled a little and held the door open for them.  
  
“Have fun!” she called.  
  
Feliciano turned and waved at her befThe house lamps were glowing on the ripples of the canal when they arrived in Feliciano’s city.  
  
Ludwig started to walk, and Feliciano tried to tug him in the other direction.  
  
“Ludwig! My house is the other way!”  
  
“I know,” he replied. “I want to go somewhere first.”  
  
Feliciano let him take the lead, trailing along behind in mild confusion.  
  
It lifted slightly when they emerged onto St. Mark’s Plaza; melting into a tight, fluttering feeling.  
  
“Lud-”  
  
Fingers on his lips, a silent request for quiet.  
  
Ludwig led him into the deserted, moonlit Basilica, down the aisle to the altar. He turned to face Feliciano, took his hands, and rested their foreheads together.  
  
“We don’t need a priest for this,” he said quietly.  
  
Feliciano’s eyes shone slightly in the dim light.  
  
Ludwig spoke, voice low.  
  
“I vow to you here, Feliciano Vargas, to cherish you, to love you without reservation; to be always faithful and never forsake you. I would take you as my husband, to have and to hold, for as long as you will have me. Will you accept this from me?”  
  
Feliciano was tearing up again.  
  
“Yes, yes, yes,” he whispered. “I-”  
  
He stopped, trying to come up with something on the spot to reply with.  
  
“I _will_ accept this from you,” Feliciano said, staring up in the silent church at the man he loved. “And promise in return the same, for as long as we shall love each other. Will you accept that from me?”  
  
Ludwig smiled softly at him.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
They went in for the kiss at the same time.ore pulling his husband along with him to Venice.

* * *

 “Wait, wait, wait, Ludwig!”  
  
He stopped just outside the door. The faint sound of water sloshing against the walls of the canal behind his husband’s house punctuated the darkness.  
  
Feliciano looked him over and pouted, huffing in frustration.  
  
“What?” Ludwig asked. He was fairly certain they’d covered everything by now.  
  
“I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold but you’re too _big!_ ” Feliciano complained.  
  
Ludwig stared at him for a minute, then started laughing.  
  
“No! No laughing!” his husband scolded, wriggling past him through the door. “This is important! It’s bad luck if you stumble coming in!”  
  
He grabbed Ludwig’s hands.  
  
“Step carefully,” he ordered.  
  
Ludwig forced himself to stop laughing and lifted his foot high of the bottom of the doorframe. His other foot followed, and then he closed the door behind him.  
  
“There. Good?”  
  
Feliciano nodded and dragged him towards the stairs, only to stop abruptly a few steps away from the top.  
  
 _“Ludwig!”_  
  
His husband glanced up at him, pausing his plan of attack on Feliciano’s neck.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Not yet!” Feliciano told him, pushing Ludwig’s hand away from the top of his pants. “I have to give you your dower first!”  
  
Ludwig blinked at him, momentarily confused.  
  
Memory hit.  
  
“Feliciano, I said I didn’t need one.”  
  
“Too late. It is an old German tradition, even if you don’t really do it nowadays, and I am giving it to you _right_ now.”  
  
He pushed the bedroom door open.  
  
Ludwig spent a moment staring.  
  
“You… redecorated.”  
  
“Just a little,” Feliciano told him. He closed the door. “I did the rest of the house too, a lot of it was just recycling things out of the attic and doing another _‘What Goes to the Museums Now?’_ cleaning out but I _did_ buy some new things.”  
  
He pushed Ludwig down onto the bed and hopped on top of him, lying down.  
  
“But you can see that tomorrow.”  
  
Ludwig pushed himself up a little on his elbows.  
  
“And this counts a present to me how?”  
  
“Well,” Feliciano said, kicking his shoes off over the side of the bed. His socked feet came up to waggle in the air. “Usually I come to see you at your house when I’m not working, and if I _do_ have to work I stay at the place I have in Rome with Lovino, so usually I’m only here to do art and take vacations and things, and usually I’ve been doing art at your house, expect when I’m doing things that need workshop space because it’s not really like I can just build a glassworks at your place like the one I have here.”  
  
He sat up and took his tie off.  
  
“So, I was thinking that since I’m usually in Berlin and Rome and not here, and Rome is mostly for work and Berlin is mostly for living, that this could be _our_ place.”  
  
“Our place?” Ludwig asked, watching as Feliciano took his suit jacket off and undid the vest.  
  
“Mm-hm.”  
  
He stopped working at the buttons and placed his hands on either side of Ludwig, leaning over him with his shirt partially undone, forcing his husband back down onto the pillows and mattress.  
  
“I’ve had a home here ever since I can remember,” Feliciano said. “It hasn’t always been the same building, but it’s been the same place. This place has seen my whole life, and I’m not going to give it up just because I’m usually other places- but I don’t want it to miss out on _this,_ on _us._ So I thought we could make this our place, even though it’s in my country and my city and not yours but I’m supposed to take you into my house and this is it; and I remember you saying that Venice is the most beautiful place in the world and you’d stay forever if you could-”  
  
Ludwig smiled and reached for him, taking Feliciano’s face in his hands.  
  
“Yes you are,” he said softly. “And I will stay with you for as much of forever as I can.”  
  
Feliciano leaned down, placing his forearms on either side of Ludwig’s head. The tips of their noses touched.  
  
“So will I, beloved.”

**Author's Note:**

> Suum Cique is Latin for 'To Each Their Own', and was the motto of the Kingdom of Prussia  
> Venetian glass has long been prized for quality and craftsmanship
> 
> Italian Wedding Traditions: http://www.worldweddingtraditions.com/locations/west_europe_traditions/italian_traditions.html  
> German Wedding Traditions: http://www.worldweddingtraditions.com/locations/west_europe_traditions/german_traditions.html  
> The Venetian Table: http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art62627.asp  
> Venetian Ducati (1284): http://www.eenjaarinvenetie.nl/wp-content/venetian_ducat-1284.jpg  
> Prussian Vereinsthalers (1895): http://en.numista.com/catalogue/pieces32617.html  
> Katzbalger: http://www.aceros-de-hispania.com/image/paul-chen-swords/1566katzbalger-renaissance-sword/1566katzbalger-renaissance-sword.JPG  
> Kreigsmesser: http://lutel-handicraft.com/files/products/11005A.jpg


End file.
